VIGNETTES OF MANHATTAN
OUTLINES IN LOCAL COLOR

 
Books by Brander Matthews

These Many Years, Recollections of a New Yorker
———

BIOGRAPHIES
Shakspere as a Playwright
Molière, His Life and His Works
———

ESSAYS AND CRITICISMS
The Principles of Playmaking
French Dramatists of the 19th Century
Pen and Ink, Essays on subjects of more or less Importance
Aspects of Fiction, and other Essays
The Historical Novel, and other Essays
Parts of Speech, Essays on English
The Development of the Drama
Inquiries and Opinions
The American of the Future, and other Essays
Gateways to Literature, and other Essays
On Acting
A Book About the Theater
Essays on English
———
Vignettes of Manhattan; Outlines in Local Color

"PEOPLE WHO THRONGED THE FLOOR WERE WELLNIGH AS VARIOUSAS THE PAINTINGS"

VIGNETTES OF MANHATTAN:
OUTLINES IN LOCAL COLOR

BY
BRANDER MATTHEWS


WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
W. C. BROWNELL


ILLUSTRATED BY
W. T. SMEDLEY



NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1921



COPYRIGHT 1894, 1897, BY
BRANDER MATTHEWS
——
COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
THE SCRIBNER PRESS

TO
THEODORE ROOSEVELT

My dear Theodore,—You know—for we have talked it over oftenenough—that I do not hold you to be a typical New-Yorker, since youcome of Dutch stock, and first saw the light here on Manhattan Island,whereas the typical New-Yorker is born of New England parents, perhapssomewhere west of the Alleghanies. You know, also, that often thetypical New-Yorker is not proud of the city of his choice, and not soloyal to it as we could wish. He has no abiding concern for thismaligned and misunderstood town of ours; he does not thrill with prideat the sight of its powerful and irregular profile as he comes back toit across the broad river; nor is his heart lifted up with joy at thesound of its increasing roar, so suggestive and so stimulating. But wehave a firm affection for New York, you and I, and a few besides; welike it for what it is; and we love it for what we hope to see it.

It is because of this common regard for our strange and many-sided citythat I am giving myself the pleasure of proffering to you this littlevolume of vignettes. They are not stories really, I am afraid—notsketches even, nor studies; they are, I think, just what I have calledthem—vignettes. And then there are a dozen of them, one for every month inthe year, an urban calendar of times and seasons. Such as they are, Ibeg that you will accept them in token of my friendship and